


Lover, please stay

by balladofasadcafe



Category: Green Creek Series - T.J. Klune
Genre: Angst, Feelings, M/M, Slight?, post brothersong
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:08:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28656984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/balladofasadcafe/pseuds/balladofasadcafe
Summary: After I finished reading Brothersong, there was this empty spot in my heart that was reserved for my favourite wolf pack and I had to fill it somehow. That was when I started to write this fic which was supposed to be a light-hearted snapshot of weekend morning featuring several of our favourite wolves. But nope. Somehow it turned into a little angsty Mark x Gordo relationship exploration? I don't what to call this to be honest. I also unwittingly squezeed in Klune-style parts since they kind of fitted into the flow. Anyway, think of this first chapter as a prologue because I definitely intend to write that fluffy morning scene!The title is from this depressingly fitting song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i1A0G1d8Kzwps: this is not beta'd, so please let me know if there are parts in need of fixing :)
Relationships: Mark Bennett/Gordo Livingstone
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Lover, please stay

**Author's Note:**

> After I finished reading Brothersong, there was this empty spot in my heart that was reserved for my favourite wolf pack and I had to fill it somehow. That was when I started to write this fic which was supposed to be a light-hearted snapshot of weekend morning featuring several of our favourite wolves. But nope. Somehow it turned into a little angsty Mark x Gordo relationship exploration? I don't what to call this to be honest. I also unwittingly squezeed in Klune-style parts since they kind of fitted into the flow. Anyway, think of this first chapter as a prologue because I definitely intend to write that fluffy morning scene! 
> 
>   
> The title is from this depressingly fitting song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i1A0G1d8Kzw
> 
> ps: this is not beta'd, so please let me know if there are parts in need of fixing :)

Once asleep, Mark Bennett was no longer a man. Hardened lines on his forehead invisible, brows relaxed, lips slightly curled, as if recalling a fond memory. Once asleep, Mark Bennett was the boy, who shadowed another boy to protect him from the bad guys.

I woke up just before the sunrise, _again_ , the sky still undecided between orange and purple, and set to watch him, the boy, as the pines outside casted magical shadows to the roof _our_ bedroom. Our. A word I lost my faith in long ago. A taste that was foreign to my mouth but becoming more and more familiar and _oh_ so delicious. We were a part of _us_ now. Mark and Gordo. 

I reached out, raking my fingers slowly in his hair, soft and comforting. He was letting it grow for a while and I was sure that the bastard knew that I enjoyed this. Almost as much as kissing him. Almost.

If the pack saw me like this right now, creepily taking in the sight of him, I wouldn’t hear the end of it: how I, the notorious jerk Gordo Livingstone, was turning into a lovesick softy. Though recently, I started to care less and less about keeping pretenses - acting like I was not living the dream. Because I was.

After all those battles, all those hurdles that came our way, this was still surreal. Two boys who never got their chances, turned into two hardened men with wounded hearts, and by some fucking miracle - or _mystical moon magic_ whatever- got together just before the end. Only it was a beginning, a hopeful one at that.

So yes, I was living the damn dream, each and every second feeling his heartbeat next to mine, his soul slowly but steadily filling in the gaps in mine and knowing he will still be mine when I woke up from whatever terrible nightmare haunted me.

Today, it was no nightmare. One might even say that it was a happy dream: a Sunday dinner with the pack, no particular one, but all the loved ones together including those of not with us physically. I was sleeping much better for months, soaking in Mark’s presence next to mine, taking him granted, just for the night.

But there were times, still, that I’d wake up, feeling as if I was drowning, my heart scrambling and floundering, ghastly gazes of my father, of faceless hunters, of treacherous wolves burned into my retinas.

I’d frantically reach out to Mark in the dark to feel whether his heart is still beating. He’d wake up instantly, alert, his eyes seeking out mine. I’d put my hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat through our bond not quite enough, not quite reassuring, so we’d sit still, my hand on his chest, his hands cupping my face softly. And then he’d say:

_Mate._

_Lover._

_It is okay._

_You are good._

_I am good._

_We are._

_Pack._

_Good._

He’d say;

_I am safe._

_In your arms._

_You are safe._

_In my arms._

_Lover._

_It is a beautiful night._

_Sleep._

I would only nod, because it’d make sense, because we’d be both breathing in sync, because his heart would go on thump thumping, and he’d smile. We’d slip back into the bed then, his chest encompassing my back and me fitting perfectly in his arms. I would ask with a very small voice;

_Mark._

_Will you be?_

And he would answer;

_I am here._

_I will be._

Then I’d fell asleep before I know.

And sometimes, I’d wake up all empty and numb, drenched in cold sweat. I’d silently wait to feel him through our bond and I’d fucking not move an inch until I hear him breathing. And when I do, all the horrible feelings would rush in, invading my body and further paralyzing me in pain as I try to erase the bitter memory of the nightmare: him leaving me. Again. 

No matter how solid his presence right next to me, in our bed, I’d still let myself drown in the residual anger that I have yet to get rid of and the regret in the deepest shade of blue. I’d recall the misery at its strongest and the longing that couldn’t be stopped. The pain I was very much accustomed to. It was just, I’d also feel Mark, because of our bond; the loneliness he was trapped into, a pathetic mix of anger and guilt that followed him like his shadow, and the unwavering longing for the boy he wasn’t able to protect. And shit. It’d hurt so much more. 

I’d be weak on my knees before time, that unforgiving clock that tick tick ticks, and despite the crazy magic that runs through my veins, I would never be able to turn it back and make things right. Believing the only wolf that mattered the most to me in spite of my broken family and the alpha who left his witch behind. Giving that boy, who shadowed me, another kiss and another and another, just because. But I wouldn’t and the time would like down on me pitying.

The blue would start to swallow me then, just like a bog, almost as black, and Mark would stir. His hands would search my lonely one, and then take it between his warm palms. He’d peer into my eyes, seeing all without me telling with words. Because I would never be able to voice the horrible ache aloud, of all things I missed about him, things I could never be a part of. How I always wanted to know, or be there, -even when I denied it and hated myself for that- when each and every line in face, in his hands, in every inch of his body found their way to there. I fucking wouldn’t be able to, but he’d understood. He would say;

_Gordo._

_Lover._

_Mate._

_Sorry, sorry, sorry._

_I hate this word,_

_because it is inadequate,_

_it is shallow._

_I know,_

_but_

_please, please, please_

_forgive me._

His breath would hitch with sorrow and I’d be miserable because of making him feel this way. He would say;

_Mate._

_I will never._

_Not again._

_I wouldn’t be able to_

_breath._

_I know._

_I’d just wilt._

_Mate._

_I love you._

_I had always and will._

_I am yours._

_I am here._

_I will be._

Then I would breathe hope in green, tiny at first, then bright big gulps of green, filling my lungs hungrily and greedily. Filling my heart. The hope that there is still time, to be, us, to sleep to each other’s heartbeats and wake up to many sunrises as our breaths are mingling and filling up the room. I'd take his face into my hand and, confident and proud, I would say;

_Mark._

_Lover._

_Mate._

_It’s okay,_

_We are okay,_

_no damn,_

_we are better than okay,_

_you hear me?_

_I love you._

_You are mine._

_I am here._

_I will never let you go._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks a lot for reading!!


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